Boyhood
by rebecca-in-blue
Summary: He loves words, movies, and wants to be a police officer when he grows up. The world as seen through the eyes of one very special little boy, Tony and Ziva's son, Levi.
1. Team Movie Night

Wow, it's hard to believe I'm writing for _NCIS_ again. If we're being honest, I lost a lot love for the show when Ziva left, and I lost even more when Tony left. Even back then, I was working on a rough draft of this story, but his departure left such a bad taste in my mouth that I almost gave up on it. Then I read these wise words from my friend Mechabeira: _I was hurt, then I was insulted, then I was angry. And now the best 'screw you' I can think is to just keep doing what I do._

So, here's my "screw you" - the ending that I wanted for Tony and Ziva. I have at least a few more chapters planned, but I can't say for sure how far I'll take this. It feels a little weird to be back in this fandom... I hope I've still got the touch!

For my own reference: 109th fanfiction, 37th story for _NCIS_.

* * *

 _February 2014, team-centric_

The view outside the window is typical for DC in February - cold, gray, and growing even colder as darkness falls - but inside Tony and Ziva's house, the rooms are full of light and warmth. In the living room, Levi sits beside his father on the couch and leans his head against his shoulder as they scroll through a list of Shirley Temple movie titles on Tony's phone. Levi isn't put off by the decidedly feminine-sounding ones like _The Little Princess_ or _Little Miss Broadway_.

"She played an orphan a lot, huh, Dad?" he asks.

"Yeah," Tony nods, "that was kind of her thing."

"You two are supposed to be picking up in there," Ziva calls from the kitchen. "Leyla and Amira are on their way over."

There's a buzz of excitement to Tony and Levi as they spring off the couch and move around the room, clearing off the coffee table and end tables, gathering up a few stray dishes and old newspapers. McGee, Abby, Leyla, and Amira are all coming over tonight for dinner and a movie. Their family has dinner together at one of their houses at least once a month, but tonight is unusual - held on a Monday, rather than a weekend, and accompanied by a movie. It's a sad occasion, but a special one.

"Have you finished your homework?" Tony asks, as Levi folds up his schoolbook. "You know you need to get that of the way before we can watch a movie."

"I finished it," Levi nods. He pulls a worksheet out of his folder and holds it up for Tony to see. "The only homework for tonight was vocabulary, and that's easy." He pauses for a moment, then smiles and adds, "Easy. Simple. Straightforward. A cinch. No problem."

"Okay, okay," Tony laughs, waving his hands. "Enough! I get the picture."

The doorbell rings, and Ziva comes in to answer it. The weather outside is dark and chilly, but Leyla and Amira's smiles are warm and bright. They're two of the most frequent visitors to the DiNozzo-David household; Leyla and Ziva are close friends, and Amira is Levi's favorite playmate.

"Leyla," Ziva says, a bit chidingly, as she ushers them inside, "I keep telling you, you do not have to use the bell."

"Yeah!" Levi pipes up. "Just walk right in, like you do at Gibbs'."

Amira takes off her coat and hangs it on the low, child-sized coat rack handmade by Gibbs. She has one exactly like it at her apartment. "Where is Gibbs?" she asks, looking around for him.

"I'm not sure if he's coming," Tony shrugs. "I texted him and invited him, but I never heard back."

Levi and Amira meet each other's eyes for a moment. "Don't worry, he'll come," Levi says confidently.

"Well, maybe, but I think watching Shirley Temple sing and tap-dance might be a little too schmaltzy for a grumpy old guy like Gibbs."

The kids both look horrified and leap to Gibbs's defense. "He _isn't_ grumpy!" Amira exclaims, at the same time that Levi huffs and says again, "Dad, he'll _come_ ," as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

McGee arrives a few minutes later, toting a bag from the deli. "I figured since you guys are hosting, the least I could do was bring some food." He sets two platters - one of sandwiches, one of sliced fruits and vegetables - on a side table, and Ziva reheats some pita bread and hummus from the refrigerator. "Ooh, look at all this delicious healthy food," Tony says, with a feigned excitement that doesn't fool Levi or Amira one bit.

"You know what's funny?" Amira asks Levi as she tears off a piece of pita bread and swirls it through the hummus. "I didn't know Shirley Temple was even an old lady now. I thought she was still a little kid, like me."

"Well, you're not the only one," McGee smirks. "I think Tony thought so, too. You should've seen his reaction when he heard the news."

The team was in the bullpen that afternoon, finishing up some paperwork on a case, when the anchor on ZNN made the announcement. " _We've just learned that former child star Shirley Temple died of natural causes earlier today. She was 85._ " Tony's head jerked up from his computer, and he'd stared at the screen, his mouth hanging open a bit, until Gibbs had to head-smack him to get him back to work.

"Hey, I knew she was old," Tony argues. "I was just surprised to hear she'd died. She outlived so many of her contemporaries. Elizabeth Taylor. Gloria Stuart. Joan Fontaine. I guess I was just starting to think she'd never die."

Tony and McGee sit on the couch, munching sandwiches, while the kids sprawl out on the floor. Ziva and Leyla have moved into the kitchen for more adult conversation, and their soft, Middle-Eastern-accented voices talking together creates a background noise like foreign music.

"This is the movie we're watching, see?" Levi tells Amira, picking up the DVD case of _Bright Eyes_ from the coffee table. "Because this is the one where she sings _On the Good Ship Lollipop_ , and it's an _iconic_ movie scene. That means it's something everybody knows. And she has a dog in it who's the same dog who played Toto in _The Wizard of Oz_."

"How come you know so much about it?" Amira asks, tilting her head to one side.

Levi knits his brow, slightly affronted that his own cousin could've forgotten something so crucial about him. But he just answers patiently, "Because me and Dad are movie _aficionados_. That means _experts_. When I get older, we're going to have a YouTube channel where we do our own movie reviews, and we're going to call it _Levi & Dad at the Movies_, just like Siskel and Ebert."

Amira smiles and rolls her eyes. "I know _that_. I _meant_ , how come you know so much about Shirley Temple? She made _girl_ movies."

"Nuh-uh," Levi argues, "there _are_ no girl movies. Or boy movies. _Good_ movies can appeal to anyone, no matter who their target audience is." Amira simply nods; she's gotten used to Levi's big vocabulary, and to the way he can switch so easily from talking like a kid to talking like a grown-up.

Tony's face splits into a proud grin at his son's words. "Hey, McGee, who's got two thumbs and is raising his kid to appreciate movies?" he asks, then points to himself and answers, "This guy!"

Abby arrives just then; they hear her platform boots clomping up the steps, and then she swings the door open, letting in just enough cold winter air to make them appreciate the warmth that they had been taking for granted.

"Hi, guys!" she announces cheerfully, before anyone even has time to say hello. She sets a grocery bag down on the floor and takes off her coat and hat, talking excitedly the whole time. "Guess what? I brought all the ingredients to make Shirley Temples! Did I ever tell you guys when I lived in Louisiana, I used to work as a bartender at my uncle's bar? I made Shirley Temples all the time there for the designated drivers. I hope I've still got the touch. It took me forever to find maraschino cherries, but then I told a clerk at the store that I just _had_ to have some to make Shirley Temples 'cause, you know, she just died today, and - "

"Abby!" Tony interrupts, but he's smiling. "We're glad you could make it."

"Of course, you know I never miss a team movie night." She picks up her bag and heads for the kitchen. "Come on, kids, I'll let you have the extra cherries."

Levi and Amira spring to their feet and follow her. The kitchen is warm and bright, rich with the smell of the Turkish tea that Ziva and Leyla are sipping. The kids crowd around Abby as she sets her supplies on the counter. There's a bag of ice, a liter of lemon soda, a tall bottle of cherry syrup, and a jar of cherries. Ziva frowns, a bit disapprovingly, as she looks it over. "Don't give them more than one each, Abby," she says. "I don't like them having sugary drinks on a school night."

"Got it," Abby says. The kids watch attentively as she combines ice, soda, and cherry syrup in a cup, then gives it a quick whirl with her hand blender. Abby smiles at their curious faces. With their dark eyes and black hair, anyone would think that Levi and Amira are brother and sister, rather than cousins who aren't even biologically related. She lets them take turns plopping the cherries on top as she mixes up a few more.

"Why do they call these Shirley Temples?" Amira asks. "Did she drink them a lot?"

Levi shakes his head. "My dad says it's because they're real sweet, like her movies," he explains. Levi can never talk for very long without quoting his father. "But they weren't _saccharine_. That means _too_ sweet."

They all gather in the living room - the kids on the floor, the adults across the couch and armchair - and raise their glasses in a toast to Shirley Temple. Ziva dims the lights, and just as Tony is about to start the movie, there's another sound from outside - the slow, heavy tred of an old man walking up the front steps. Levi and Amira meet each others' eyes and grin delightedly. "I _knew_ it," Amira whispers, "I knew he'd come," and she and Levi race to the door.

It is Gibbs, of course, and the kids let him in and chatter excitedly - "Gibbs, look, we're about to watch the movie where she sings On the Good Ship Lollipop!" "Gibbs, look, Abby made Shirley Temples for all of us!" - as he takes off his coat. He smiles at them, but all he says in his gruff voice is, "Brought these," and he produces a bag of lollipops.

"Ooh, what a good idea, Gibbs," Abby compliments, as the bag is passed around the room. "Lollipops are the perfect thing for Shirley Temple night."

They're all impressed, but nobody is as surprised as Tony. He can't quite get over the sight of his grumpy old boss, the functional mute, sucking a lollipop and sitting down to watch a Shirley Temple movie. Not very long ago, he would never have believed it, but Levi and Amira, his surrogate grandchildren, have brought about such a change in Gibbs. They softened up his hard old heart just like Shirley Temple did to all the crusty old millionaires in her movies.

Levi sat on the floor beside Amira and watched the movie, but his thoughts swept a wide arc around the dimmed room. He thought about the cold, dark February evening outside the windows, and he thought about the food and company inside their house tonight. He thought about what he'd read in the Shirley Temple obituary that his father had showed him, about how her movies had made people feel better during the Great Depression. A warm, safe feeling spread through his chest, and words began to arrange themselves in his head, as if of their own accord.

Once upon a time, a little princess named Shirley  
lived in magical kingdom called Hollywood,  
and in the darkest times of our nation,  
she reminded us of how to feel good.

She died on a cold winter day,  
even though we thought she never would.  
She brought us together in spite of the weather,  
and still reminded us how to feel good.


	2. Winter and Gratitude

I'm as grateful as Ziva is in this chapter to everyone who left reviews on the first chapter. As I said, writing for _NCIS_ again after such a long absence feels a little weird, and your encouragement means a lot. I realized that we didn't get to see much of Ziva in the last chapter, so this one is focused on her and Levi.

* * *

 _February 2014, Ziva & Levi_

She would simply never get used to the winters in DC, Ziva decided as she sighed and poured herself another cup of tea. Of course, she loved her family and her life here, and for three seasons of year, the city felt completely like home to her. But every year, for that one dreaded season, her pangs of homesickness always returned. They softened during Hanukkah, but even the glow of the candles and the taste of the latkes couldn't make them go away completely.

All through winter - from when the cold November winds blew the last red and orange leaves off the trees, until the first green glass blades finally poked through the snow in March - Ziva's Israeli bones ached for her old home in Haifa. Sometimes, when she and Tony were brushing snow off the car or shoveling it off their front walk, she would remember the warm, salty breezes blowing in from the sea and almost want to cry. The final weeks of February always seemed to be the worst - the coldest and snowiest. Ziva suspected that old man winter wanted to make her as miserable as possible, one last time, before spring sent him on his way.

She was so unlike her American son, she reflected, as she warmed her hands against her steaming cup of tea and watched Levi through the window. He was dressed in warm winter clothes, playing in the snow in the backyard. Ziva had always felt grateful for how easily her son could amuse himself. Levi played well either alone or with other children, and while Ziva started counting down the days until springtime in November, Levi liked playing outside all winter, in the snow or in dry weather. Ziva wondered at this, and worried over him, always asking, "Are you warm enough? Are you sure?" Ever since they had all watched _Frozen_ , Levi responded by belting out, "Mom, the cold never bothered me, anyway!" Tony thought it was hilarious and often sang along.

Now, Ziva's brow furrowed over her dark eyes as she watched Levi crouch down low over the snow, as if he was looking for something. Curious, she finished her tea, wrapped herself in their thickest afghan - hand-knitted by Aunt Nettie in Israel - and went outside.

"Levi?" she called as she walked over to him, the snow crunching lightly under her feet. But Levi didn't answer, or even look up, and Ziva knew that he must be writing. The snow was light and powdery enough that it didn't clump, and Levi had taken a twig and written in a smooth patch, _The snow makes everything quiet and I can hear all the words._

"What are you writing, _motek_?" Ziva asked.

"Words about the snow," Levi answered, his voice distant and distracted. "The snow wants more quiet words." As Ziva watched, he picked up his twig again and wrote _silent listen hush sshhh_. He sat back on his heels for a moment, considering them, then looked up at his mother. "Which do you like best, Mom?"

Ziva was polygamist with languages; she spoke several, but she didn't love any of them as much as Levi loved his one and only language. Levi and English were extremely monogamous. He had learned to write at a young age and had been writing ever since. He was always pondering over words, trying to find just the right one to say what he meant, and his teachers all said that they had never seen a child with such an impressive vocabulary. Even after living in this country for so long, Ziva still mixed up slang words and said idioms wrong, and she suspected that Levi already spoke English better than she did.

" _Shh_ ," she answered, and she crouched down beside him on the snow. "I like _shh_ best."

"Me, too!" Levi exclaimed, and he added more H's onto the end of the word. "I like it because that's what the snow does. It makes everything go _shh_."

Ziva nodded. "It does make the world feel quieter. McGee told me it is because snow absorbs sound waves, rather than reflects them." She raised her head and looked around their backyard, at the fresh snow on the bare branches and the neighbors' rooves. The whiteness made the world look clean and new. For a moment, she saw it through Levi's eyes. For really the first time, she saw the beauty in winter, this season that she had always hated, and it made her grateful and sad at the same time - grateful that her son had finally opened her eyes, sad that it had taken her so long to see this beauty.

Levi stood up and tugged on her afghan, distracting her. "Mom, what are we having for dinner?" he blurted, and Ziva almost laughed at how completely he could switch modes. One minute, he was practically a mature, sensitive poet, pondering over words; the next minute, a typical, constantly hungry little boy.

"I was thinking of making shakshuka," she answered, naming a spicy Israeli dish that they both loved. The cold weather always made Ziva crave the hot foods of her homeland, and she and Levi both had a taste for spicy. Tony didn't share it - Ziva always teased him for having a "mild American tongue" - but this was one way that Levi didn't mind being different from his father. "Would you like to help me make it?"

"Yeah," Levi said enthusiastically. "I want to crack the eggs."

As they walked back into the house, Ziva paused and glanced over the shoulder. She expected that the spell would be broken, that winter would've lost its brief beauty and now would look bleak and depressing again, the way it had always looked to her. She liked the look of the white branches against the blue sky, and the sight of her and Levi's footprints side by side in the snow. A flicker of hope kindled in her heart that maybe she would come to love this season after all.

* * *

That night, Ziva did what Levi did so often - but what she usually did so rarely - and wrote something down by hand. She didn't open her latptop or reach for her tablet, but actually set a pen to paper, trying to remember the last time that she did this outside of writing a check. She was sitting up in bed, with a spare notepad propped against her knees, as Tony snored in the sheets beside her. It was calming how the paper didn't cast that unnatural, blue-tinted glow at her like the screens. Perhaps she should do this more often.

She didn't share the same deep appreciation for English that Levi did, but she could speak more languages than him. She wondered vaguely if that was a fair trade.

Then she picked up her pen and filled the little piece of paper with every form of _thank you_ that she could think of, in every language that she knew. _Thank you. Gracias. Danke. Shukraan. Spasibo._ She even tried to draw the motion - a flat hand moving down from the mouth - that Abby said meant _thank you_ in sign language. And with each _thank you_ , she thought of something else that Levi had brought to her life. _Merci beaucoup_ for words and nursery rhymes and silly songs. _Todah rabah_ for teaching me to see the beauty in winter. _Thank you_ for making a mom out of an assassin.

At the bottom, in the last bit of open page space, she wrote, _In every language, I am grateful_.

She leaned back against the pillows and reread her words. She didn't love writing as much as her son did, but she thought she could understand, now, why he always talked about words with such a passion.

When the snow falls in a hush,  
the words come to me in a rush.  
In the quiet when I go to bed,  
the words sing songs inside my head.


	3. Adventures in Babysitting

I know it's been a while, but I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Abby can be a tricky character for me to write, but she's also a lot of fun.

* * *

 _March 2014, Abby and Levi_

"Thank you so much, Abby," Ziva says again, as she and Tony head for the door.

"Aww, shucks," Abby answers, waving her hand in a _no big deal_ gesture. "You guys know how much I love baby-sitting for my favorite nephew. You can call me anytime you need a date night."

"Date night means that they wanna go do _mushy_ stuff," Levi puts in dramatically, making a disgusted face, "like have sex and stuff."

" _Levi_ ," Ziva cautions, giving her son a warning glare. But she has to shift her glare to her husband when Tony smirks and says, "Trust me, someday you won't think it's so gross." Abby doesn't even make an effort to hold in her laughter, slapping her thigh and muttering, "God, I love this kid."

Abby calls him her favorite nephew, and Levi calls her his favorite aunt, irregardless of the fact that she's also his _only_ aunt. She's his favorite baby-sitter too, especially when he gets to go over to her apartment. Abby knows great games to play, and she has things in her apartment that Levi doesn't see anywhere else. One doorway has a curtain of shiny black beads instead of a door, and one shelf is full of scented candles shaped like skulls. But currently, Levi is most fascinated by the long, sleek wooden coffin in her bedroom.

"Can I see your coffin, please?" he asks, after his parents say goodbye a few more times and finally leave.

"Sure," Abby smiles. "Just let me in clean up a little in there first." She dashes into her bedroom, hides the lacy black bra that had been dangling from her closet doorknob, throws away a few empty Caf!Pow cups that had been littering her floor, then calls Levi in.

"I don't anyone else who sleeps in a _coffin_ ," Levi says, impressed, as he runs one hand along the smooth wooden surface. "How old is it again, Abby?"

"About a hundred and fifty," she answers, twirling one of her pigtails around her finger as she talks. "It looks pretty good for its age, huh? It was handmade by a carpenter in Germany."

The coffin's lid is open, and Levi reaches one hand inside to feel the plushly-cushioned bottom. As he runs his fingers along the fabric, words suddenly form inside his mind. _Snug. Serene. Sheltered._ It's as if they've traveled from the coffin to his brain, as if this old coffin has been waiting for a hundred and fifty years for Levi just to touch it and hear the words in it.

He looks back at Abby, tilts his head, and gives her his most pleading, wide-eyed look, the same one that he used to convince his mom to buy him another pair of policeman pajamas. "Can I lie in it, please?"

"Oh, you are just like your dad, kiddo," Abby laughs, and Levi smiles at this, pleased and flattered. "You think you can just turn on that DiNozzo charm and get people to agree to anything, don't you? You know, lying in my coffin is a very special privilege reserved for a few very special people... but since you are my favorite nephew, yes, you can."

She helps him inside, and he lies down along the bottom. From inside, the coffin suddenly feels much bigger. The walls seem to stand so high on every side of him and reach far down past his legs. Levi thought it might be scary to lie in a coffin, but it's exciting, and more words float around inside his head. _Cozy. Comfortable. Commodious_. "You know what, Abby?" he asks, wide-eyed and eager. "This would be a good place to do words. I do words on the floor of my room sometimes."

Abby smiles. Tony and Ziva have told her that they regularly find Levi lying on his bedroom floor with his eyes closed and feet propped up on the wall. _Doing words_ or _Listening to the words in my head_ , he answers when they ask him what he's doing.

"Are you doing words right now?" she asks when he closes his eyes.

Levi is silent for a moment. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, screwing up his little face so much that Abby almost laughs. "No..." he says slowly, and his voice is thoughtful, as if the words are coming from deep inside him. "Right now, I'm pretending I'm a baby in a box that's been left somewhere, and I'm waiting for someone to come along and find me."

At his words, something like an alarm bell goes off in Abby's head. She leans over the coffin, concerned and unsure of what to say, but it doesn't matter because before she can say anything, Levi's eyes spring open.

"Like Peter Pan," he adds, his voice casual again. He grips the sides of the coffin and sits up as he goes on, "He was a lost baby, and Tinkerbell found him and brought him to Neverland. I saw it in _Hook_. Robin Williams and Dustin Hoffman. Dad says when I'm older, he'll show me some of their _dramatic_ stuff. That means _serious_."

"I know," Abby says. "You have a very good vocabulary."

Grown-ups are always complimenting Levi on his vocabulary. He used to correct them about it, saying, "It isn't a _vocabulary_. It's _words_." But recently, he and Tony had come up with a joke, and he practices it on Abby now. "If I had a dollar for every time someone said I had a good vocabulary, know how many dollars I would have?" He pauses, and when Abby shakes her head, he delivers the punchline, "A plethora, a multitude, an overabundance, a myriad, a surplus, a - "

"Okay, okay," Abby interrupts, laughing, when she realizes that Levi could probably carry on like this for twenty more words. "I get it."

She helps him out of her coffin then, and they spend the rest of the evening playing games. Abby is his favorite baby-sitter because she's so silly and so much fun to play with, almost like she's still a kid herself. Talking about _Hook_ has put Levi in a mood to recreate the swordfight scene, so Abby holds the hook of a coathanger between her fingers, pretending to be Captain Hook, and she lets Levi jump around on her furniture, pretending to fly. Levi wants them to quote the dialogue from the movie, but Abby doesn't have his and Tony's memory for film lines, and Levi keeps prompting her.

When he grows tired of that game, he asks her to teach him some words in sign language, and they're in the middle of a lesson when Abby's cell phone chirps.

"Just got a text from your mom and dad," she tells Levi, reading the message onscreen. "They'll be a little late getting back. They got stuck in some traffic jam downtown. Your dad must be driving. Your mom would never get stuck in a traffic jam with the way she drives, right?" She looks up from her phone smiling, but Levi's face is slightly worried.

"But they're still coming back for me, right?" he asks, trying to sound casual.

The alarm bell in Abby's head goes off again, much louder this time. "Oh, Levi..." she says slowly, taken aback. Did he really worry that Tony and Ziva might leave him with her and never come back? Did his fear of abandonment still run so deep? "Honey, of course they're going to come back for you. You know your mom and dad would never - "

"I _know_ ," Levi interrupts loudly, with an angry edge to his tone. "I was just _checking_. Abby, can you teach me how to sign _We're gonna need a bigger boat_? That Dad's favorite movie line of all. I want to show it to him in signing."

Abby smiles. "Sure, kid."

* * *

By the time Tony and Ziva return to pick him up later that evening, Levi is fast asleep on Abby's couch. She lets them in, then goes to the couch and gently shakes Levi. "Come on, lost boy," she whispers, "wake up. Your mom and dad are here for you."

"Ah, let him snooze, Abs," Tony says, waving his hand, when Levi doesn't stir. "I'll carry him out to the car. Thanks again for baby-sitting him."

But as Tony bends over him and picks him up, Levi's eyes flutter open. It isn't being moved that wakes up; it's the sound of the words inside his head. They travel into his head from his father's arms as Tony carries him out to the car. _We came back, we're here, we came back for you,_ they say, and Levi smiles drowsily and soon falls asleep again to the quiet murmur of the words.

He was just a lost boy that someone left behind,  
but he was not alone because the words were in his mind.  
He was just a lost boy with nobody beside him,  
but he was not alone because the words were still inside him.


	4. Family Movie Night

I know that this story has been light on the Tiva so far, so this chapter is especially for you, Tiva fans! And you, _Harry Potter_ fans. :) Many thanks to everyone who's reviewed.

* * *

 _March 2014, Tony & Ziva_

"I had a feeling when he picked this movie," Ziva whispers, shifting a bit under the warm, light weight of their son, "that he would not make it through to the end."

Tony smiles at her from the other end of the couch. Levi is sprawled across the cushions between them, fast alseep, with his bare feet in his father's lap and his head in his mother's. In the flickering light of the TV, his eyelashes cast a shadow like angel's wings across his cheeks.

"Hey, it's been a while since he's fallen asleep during a movie," Tony replies. He looks up from Levi and back at the TV screen, where all the students of Hogwarts are cheering as Hagrid strides into the Great Hall. Curious, he grabs the DVD case from the coffee table. "Well, no wonder he didn't make it," he scoffs. "This movie has a runtime of almost three hours. Chris Columbus really expected kids to sit still for that long?"

They watch in silence for a few more moments. When the image fades and the credits start to roll, Tony picks up the remote, but Ziva puts her hand over his, stopping him. "Don't... not yet," she says, her voice even quieter.

Tony puts the remote down again, but looks at her quizzically. "You never want to watch through the credits," he points out.

"I know, but..." Ziva pauses and gently lays one hand over Levi's head in her lap. "You were right, Tony. "He has not fallen asleep during a movie in some time. He might not do it again. He can stay up so much later now."

Tony bites the inside of his cheek lightly as her words sink in. "Yeah. This might be the last time." And suddenly, this evening feels like much more than just another weekend family movie night, Levi's "favoritest" day of the week. It feels almost like some monumental, end-of-an-era night as Tony looks down at his sleeping son. Tonight Levi is wearing his favorite pair of pajamas, his police pajamas, with a bright yellow badge printed on the blue t-shirt. The clothes were marketed to younger boys, and when Levi outgrew his last pair, Ziva had to search online to find a set in his new size.

"No, I want the police ones," he'd begged, when Ziva tried to persuade him into different pajamas. "Because Daddy was a policeman in Baltimore. I wanna be just like Daddy." And Ziva had been so touched by his words that she'd ordered him the pajamas.

"I have been thinking," Ziva goes on now, "about how parents always document their children's firsts. First steps, first words. But most of the time, we cannot document their lasts."

"Because we don't know when it's the last time," Tony finishes for her, and a bittersweet feeling spreads over his heart like a blanket. He and Ziva couldn't document all of Levi's firsts, so they needed to savor this. He wouldn't always fall asleep during family movie night, and one day - one day that would be here all too soon, Tony suspected - he would be loathe to even _think_ about spending a Saturday night at home with his parents.

Tony leans back into the couch, prepared to watch through the end of the credits and beyond, just to make this moment last. "Hey, look at that, Zi," he says, pointing to the screen and laughing a bit. "There's a credit for Great Hall Feast Chefs."

It's such a peaceful, quiet moment, almost as if one of the wizards in the movie had cast a spell over the two of them. The rest of the world feels far away as they sit together in the darkness with Levi fast asleep across them. The main _Harry Potter_ score plays softly, and Tony occassionally reads the more unusual credits aloud. "Assistant plasterer. Set doctor, set nurses. Ooh, inferno operator - that's a good one."

Ziva doesn't want this moment to end, but of course, it does. The music fades, and just as the copyright logos scroll up, signalling the end of the credits, just then, Levi shifts in his sleep. He turns his head on his mother's lap, his mouth falling open, and loudly begins to snore. Tony and Ziva meet each other's eyes over him and try not to laugh too loudly.

"Okay, come on, my little mood-killer," Tony whispers, carefully gathering Levi up in his arms. "Let's get you into bed." He pauses and glances at Ziva before he carries Levi upstairs to his room. "You know he gets the snoring from you, right, Zi?"

Ziva glares at him but says simply, "I will admit to that, as long as _you_ admit that he gets the farting from you, Tony."

"Ha! I admit to that with _pride_."

When Levi was still a toddler, Abby had gotten him a little custom-made shirt, with the words _I Fart Like a Grown Man_ in huge letters on the front. Tony had taken a photo of him in it with his phone and shown it proudly to every single person at the agency.

"Few men in the world are as accomplished in flatulence as Levi and me," Tony goes on now, still whispering. "You're lucky to have us in your life."

Ziva doesn't answer, but as Tony thumps upstairs with Levi in his arms, and she gathers up the empty popcorn bowls, she smiles to herself. She had to agree with him, after all.

 _Yes, lucky me_.

When we watch movies on TV,  
it's more than what we watch and see.  
It's the people that we sit beside.  
It's something that we feel inside.


	5. Playing Policeman

Since today is Father's Day here in the US, I saved publishing this chapter for today. It has something of a Father's Day theme to it - even though Tony and Ziva are still in March!

* * *

 _March 2014, Tony & Ziva_

"Man, that smell delicious, Zi," Tony says, taking a deep breath as he walks into the kitchen. "I'm starving. What is it, stuffed peppers?"

Ziva nods. She's standing at the counter, sprinkling parmesan cheese on the breadsticks, and the hunger in Tony's stomach sharpens at the sight of them. It's a Monday evening in early spring, and Tony's day has ranked high on the Monday scale - a Lance Corporal shot dead in a home invasion, and a string of petty, break-in crooks who knew nothing. He's gotten back from work later than usual, barely making it home in time for dinner.

"They should be ready soon," Ziva tells him, checking the timer on the stove. She turns, taking in Tony's untucked shirt and tired eyes. "You look like you need to relax. I was thinking, it's such a nice evening, why don't we have dinner on the back porch tonight?"

Tony grins. "That sounds perfect. Hey, I got your text earlier. So, what's this _big news_ that Levi's so excited about?"

She gestures to the window over the kitchen sink, and Tony steps closer. The window overlooks their back yard, where Levi running and spinning across the grass, playing some make-believe game by the glow of the gentle spring twilight. But he isn't wearing normal clothes. Tony peers closer. He's wearing a miniature police officer uniform.

"Hey, isn't that his old Halloween costume?" Then he snaps his fingers, realizing. "Oh, it must be time for Purim again." Ziva nods. She doesn't see the point in buying her son a costume for each holiday, so Levi has always reused his Halloween costume - a police officer uniform for the last three years - as his Purim costume in the spring.

"I took him by the temple after school today," Ziva tells him, as he tears off one crusty corner of a breadstick and shoves it into his mouth. "They were casting parts in the Megillah play. Levi is playing Mordechai, but you must act surprised when he tells you. He insisted on telling you that himself."

Ziva pauses, her smile fading, and she twirls the long bread knife in her hand for a moment, her brow knit over her dark eyes. She sighs and looks out the window at Levi, who's still so immersed in his play that he hasn't noticed his parents watching him.

Tony frowns and steps closer to her. "What's wrong?"

"I did not say anything was wr - "

"You don't have to, Zi," Tony interrupts her, smiling for a moment. "You think I can't tell?"

Ziva sighs and looks back out the window at her little boy; somehow, his grown-up-looking policeman uniform makes him seem even younger and smaller. The costume comes complete with a little toy gun in the holster at his waist. But Levi has never pulled it out and pretended to shoot anyone with it before now. As Tony and Ziva watch him, he does it again.

"He has been doing that ever since they cast him in the Megillah play," Ziva tells Tony, her voice troubled. "He says that he is Mordechai shooting Haman. I just... do not like the idea of him playing with toy guns."

Tony is silent for a moment, thinking. He can understand why it would bother Ziva to see Levi pulling out a gun and pretending to shoot someone, something that they've both had to do for real far too often. Ever since they became parents, they've kept their guns religiously locked away in the gun cabinet.

"Well, I had a toy gun when I was a kid." He chuckles a bit, going on, "I remember I used to pretend I was Alan Ladd in _Shane_ , acting out that gun fight scene between him and Jack Palance. I bet Gibbs had one too, and look at how we turned out. Didn't you ever play with toy guns when you were a kid?"

Ziva smiles back at him and answers, far too casually, "Of course not, Tony, I shot _real_ guns."

It's only when the smile slides off her husband's face that Ziva realizes the weight of what she's just said.

"What?" Tony asks. He knows that Ziva hardly had an ordinary childhood, growing up in Israel with Eli David for a father, but even so, this is a shock to him. "Not... not when you were a kid?"

But Ziva purses her lips and answers quietly, "My father started teaching me to shoot when I was little older than Levi is now."

It hadn't occurred to her, then, to find anything wrong with that. After all, Ari had learned to shoot at the same age, and her mother didn't object. But now, she looks out the window at Levi and imagines him at a shooting range in a few years, his little face dwarfed by bulky noise-cancelling headphones and safety glasses, and she's suddenly gripped by a white-hot rage. She's suddenly tempted to call her father in Israel and scream at him. _How dare you? What were you thinking? I was a child!_ She suddenly wants to weep for the little girl that she once was.

"Hey," Tony says softly, interrupting her thoughts just when they most need to be interrupted. He puts one arm around her and pulls her into a hug. "Hey, it doesn't matter," he says in an urgent, reassuring tone. "You turned out okay, anyway."

She smiles, and for a moment, they simply stand there, embracing in the warm, spicy-scented kitchen, until Tony's stomach grumbles so loudly that Ziva has to laugh and pull away.

"You really _are_ starving," she teases playfully, poking his shoulder. "I think we've spent enough time brooding in here. Let's have dinner."

Levi runs over immediately when they step out onto the back porch with dishes. "Dad, Dad, Dad!" he yells to Tony, with a level of excitement that could rival Abby's. "Guess what, guess what, guess what!"

Ziva looks on as he tells Tony his big news about the Purim play, and as she does, a peaceful, contented feeling spreads through her. Tony has already taught their son so much about movies and jokes and sports. He's never going to teach Levi the things that Ziva's father taught her.

Between her time at Mossad and NCIS, Ziva has done too many things and killed too many people to really consider herself a good person, but seeing Tony and Levi together always reminds her that she did one good thing with her life. She gave her son a good father.

Purim is noisy and messy and fun  
With costumes and disguises on everyone  
Purim is candy and groggers and games  
And shouting boos over Haman's name  
Purim is a show-off, no doubt about it  
But can you imagine springtime without it?


	6. The Art of Arguing

And in this chapter, finally, we reach the entire reason why I started writing this story in the first place. So many Tiva kid!fics give them a daughter, and the focus tends to be on Ziva as a mother. I wanted to give them a son and try to focus on _Tony as a father._ I wish it hadn't taken me this long into the story to finally get there, but I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.

* * *

 _April 2014, Tony & Levi_

Levi is sitting cross-legged on the front porch when Tony gets home from work today. He's bent low over an open notebook lying crookedly across his legs, chewing on the end of his pen. Tony sits in his car for a moment after pulling into the driveway just to watch him, to admire his focus. Levi goes into his own world whenever he touches pen to paper. Everything around him fades away. He doesn't brush his hair out of his eyes. He doesn't notice the mosquito buzzing in his ears. He doesn't look up when Tony pulls into the driveway, or even when he gets out of the car and slams the door.

"You doin' homework, Kid?" Tony calls as he walks around the car and mounts the porch steps.

Levi finally looks up from his notebook, with such a dazed expression on his face that Tony has to fight the urge to laugh. Levi often wears that expression when he looks up from his words, as if he's forgotten about everything but that page in front of him, and now has to struggle to remember it all.

He blinks and comes back to himself, then answers, "Nah, I'm just doin' words." But he flips his notebook closed before Tony can see anything he's written. He chews on his pen again and adds, "Dad? Me and Spencer got into a fight at school today."

Tony sighs and sits down beside him on the porch, leaning back against the house. He stretches his legs out in front of him, tired from the work day, and Levi immediately copies him. "Just refresh my memory, Kid. Spencer is supposed to be your _friend_ , right?" Levi nods. "Okay, so what happened that made you get into a fight with your friend?"

"He was being so _stupid_!" Levi bursts out. "He just saw _Man of Steel_ , and he said it was the best Superman movie, and I said, what about all the Christopher Reese movies?"

"It's _Reeve_ , Levi," Tony corrects. "You mean Christopher _Reeve_."

"Right, him. And what about all the cartoon movies? And do you know what, Dad? He'd never even _seen_ any of those!" He waves his arms in exasperation.

Tony chuckles appreciatively. "Well, I keep telling you, most other kids aren't as well-versed in film as you are."

"Well, I told Spencer he couldn't say _Man of Steel_ was the best if he hadn't seen all the other Supermans, but he kept saying it was, and I told him was being a stupid butt-head."

"A stupid butt-head?" Tony repeats, grimacing. "Levi, kids were calling each other that back when _I_ was in elementary school. If you're going to insult someone, you should at least try to be original about it. You're so good with words that it should be easy for you."

Levi is silent for a moment, thinking and wiggling his fingers between the spiral binding of the notebook in his lap. His bookshelves are already crammed full of notebooks, and Tony and Ziva are still buying him more. "But Dad," he argues slowly, "if they were saying it when you were a kid, that means it's _classic_ , right? I thought classic stuff was _good_. Like when elephant-Abu threw the door open and squashed Jafar in _Aladdin_. You said that was a classic comedy gag."

Tony can't answer for a moment, pride and humility and surprise warring inside him as a smile slowly spreads on his face. They had watched _Aladdin_ together one evening a few weeks ago. "See that?" he'd said off-handedly to Levi when Jafar was crushed between the door and the palace wall at the end of the _Prince Ali_ number. "That's the door-gag, a classic comedy bit." He hadn't even thought that Levi was really listening to him, much less that he was listening closely enough to recall his words weeks later. Sometimes, he forgets just how much Levi looks up to him, how deeply he takes to heart everything that Tony says, and when he gets reminders in moments like this, it's at once intimidating and inspiring.

"That's true, but just because something is old doesn't _always_ mean it's classic. Remember when we were reading the spring movie previews, and we saw one about _Moms' Night Out_?"

"Yeah, and you said it was just another remake of the bumbling dad cliche."

"Right. There are _way_ too many movies where the mom goes back to work or out for a night or something, and the dad has to take care of the kids, and he's really bad at it. That stopped being funny a _long_ time ago _._ Real men know how to take care of their kids, and they don't look like bumbling idiots doing it," Tony says fiercely. "I want you to remember that, okay?" Levi nods. "See, that plot device is old, but it isn't classic. It's just outdated."

"Outdated!" Levi repeats, his eyes shining. "That's a good word. So, that means old stuff that it isn't good anymore?" Tony nods. "So, stupid butt-head is outdated, and I should think of something else to call Spencer?"

Tony grimaces. That wasn't exactly the message that he was trying to send. "No, Levi, Spencer is your _friend_. What you _should_ do is save your insults for people who really deserve them. Do you get what I mean?"

Levi purses his lips, looking puzzled. "Kind of..."

Tony sighs. He still hasn't quite gotten used to the contrast of his daily life; just a few hours ago, he and Gibbs were arresting a Petty Officer for murdering his coworker, and now, he's trying to settle his son's elementary schoolyard argument. Then, he's struck by a sudden inspiration.

"Hey, I know," he says, "let's go inside and watch a few _Siskel & Ebert_s."

Levi gasps in delight and leaps to his feet. McGee burned several seasons _Siskel & Ebert at the Movies_ onto DVDs for Tony's birthday, and Levi has come to love their reviews as much as his father does. His favorite thing in the world is to watch a movie with Tony, then watch Siskel and Ebert's review of it, then discuss whether or not they agree with it. Levi loves that his father never talks down to him when they're discussing movies; he talks to him like another grown-up, making smart points about a film's pacing or script. In the living room, Tony pops a DVD into the player, and they settle onto the couch.

"They fought a lot, huh?" he asks, glancing at Levi, as Siskel and Ebert hammer out their opinions on _Joe Versus the Volcano_.

"Sure, that was what made them so funny."

"But they were friends, too," Tony points out. "Did you ever hear them call each other _stupid butt-heads_ when they argued?"

Levi blinks. "No," he realizes.

"Think. What did they say?"

Levi has watched so many movie reviews by Siskel and Ebert that he doesn't need to think about it for long. "Um, usually _I disagree with you_ or _I think you're wrong_. They said those lots."

"So, what are you going to say to Spencer the next time you guys fight?"

A slow smile of comprehension spreads on Levi's face. "I'll say _I disagree with you_ , like Siskel does."

Tony smiles, holds one fist up, and Levi bumps it with his own proudly. "You got it, Kid," he says. "That's the art of arguing." It's in little moments like these - when he's able to teach something important to his son, and Levi really _gets_ it - that Tony knows that this little boy is the best thing to ever happen to him.

When Roger wanted to remember Gene,  
he rewatched their favorite movie scenes.  
And even though his friend was gone,  
they were together with a good movie on.


	7. Grandparents' Day

On the off-chance that anybody out there is still following this story, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I also hope a few of you will drop by my fanfiction recommendation forum, The Dark Is Drowsy (link on my profile). I don't get much NCIS traffic there.

* * *

 _March 2014, DiNozzo family_

The next weekend that Gibb's team has off from work, the weather is so pleasant - unseasonably warm and sunny for March in DC - that even Tony doesn't want to stay inside and watch movies. He, Ziva, and Levi all spill out into the front yard on Saturday afternoon, to enjoy the sunshine and do some spring cleaning. Tony prunes the shrubs along the front porch, cutting off pieces that had died during the winter, while Ziva uncovers the flower beds. Levi runs back and forth, trying to help both of them, and occassionally, he jumps back onto the porch, flips open the notebook that he left there, and writes in it. He's always liked to squeeze his words in between other activities.

"It's homework, but it's words, too," he says, when Tony asks him what he's writing. "It's for Grandparents Day at school. We're all supposed to do words about our grandparents and what we like about them, and then on Grandparents Day, we read it to everyone."

"Yeah, your grandpa's been looking forward to that," Tony nods. "He arranged with Director Vance to be off work that day, so he can come to your school."

"That's nice of very him," Ziva says. She pauses over the flower beds and sits back on her heels, brushing away a few strands of her that came loose from her ponytail. "Levi, I hope you will remember to say thank you to Director Vance next time you see him."

"I will," Levi assures his mother. "I'll say, _thank you, Toothpick_ ," and he and Tony both snicker. They still think it's funny to call Vance _The Toothpick_ behind his back. Ziva worries that someday, Levi will blurt it out to Vance's face, even though whenever he sees Vance, he's all good manners and _Director Vance, sir_.

They're both grateful that Gibbs will be there for Grandparents Day at Levi's school. Even though Levi has more than his share of grandfathers, Gibbs is the only one who can attend. Levi has still never actually met _Saba_ , as he calls Ziva's father, but he gets letters from him in Israel, and presents for every birthday and Hanukkah. They have regular visits from _Grandpa Jack_ , as he calls Gibbs's father, but they couldn't expect Jack to make the long drive from Stillwater just for one day. As for _Paw-Paw_ , as Levi called Tony's father, Tony had mentioned Grandparents Day to him on the phone the last time he called, but Senior said that he would be traveling with some friends that week. Tony had hung up the phone disappointed. He had hoped that Senior would put more effort into being a grandfather than he had into being a father.

Fortunately, Levi had never asked about his Paw-Paw coming to Grandparents Day. Just the fact that Gibbs would be there was more than enough for him. Levi idolized his Grandpa Gibbs and told anyone who would listen that he was named after him. "Because his name is _Leroy_ Jethro," he was always saying proudly, "and my name is _Levi_ Jethro."

"I can do words about Ducky for Grandparents Day too, right?" Levi suddenly asks from the porch, interrupting Tony's thoughts.

Tony nearly slaps his forehead. Ducky! He had almost forgotten that their medical examiner was as good as a grandfather to Levi, too. "You bet, Kid," he says, smiling.

"Good, because I already got the words right about Ducky."

Tony and Ziva glance at each other at this, curious. They're never prouder of Levi than when he shares something that he's written with them, but they don't want him to feel obligated to show them his words. After a moment, Tony looks from Ziva to Levi and asks casually, "Yeah? Can we hear them?"

Levi doesn't answer right away. He tilts his head, studying the words on the page, then he picks up his notebook and slowly stands up. He brushes his bangs to one side, smoothes down a crease at the edge of the page, and reads in his most serious voice.

"Ducky is very smart and full of stories. I love his stories because he is from Scotland, and when I listen to his voice, I can see rolling green hills dotted with white sheep, and mist rolling in from the sea."

Tony raises his eyebrows, impressed. With some of Levi's accomplishments, he has to feign excitement over them, but with the words and descriptions that his son crafts, he never has to fake it.

"Those are very good words, Levi," Ziva tells him, impressed, too. "And that is just what I see when Ducky talks, too." She would have described it like that herself, but after listening to Levi's words, it seems obvious. That is what she and Tony love most about the things that Levi writes; so often his words change the way they view the world around them.

"Thanks, Mom," Levi says dutifully to his mother's praise, but he doesn't smile. He knows that he got his words right about Ducky, but they're short. His eyes drift to all the blank, empty space beneath them on the page. He knows that his words about his Grandpa Gibbs, when he gets them right, will fill up some of that space, butpart of the page will still be empty.

Without meaning to, Levi mumbles, "I wish I had a grandma to do words about, too."

Tony smiles, though his eyes are sad, and pulls Levi into a one-armed hug. "I wish you did, too, Kid, believe me. You know your gradma loved movies too, just like you and me."

Levi nods against his father's arm. Tony has told him this before. Ziva says nothing - just stares away down the street, her eyes distant - but Levi had been expecting this. He knows that his mother usually gets quiet when she's sad about something. He understands that sometimes, sad is big - too big, even, for words. He thinks back to what Tony said about how his mother had loved movies, too. There are words there, Levi thinks... but they're not quite ready yet.

They go back to their work of sprucing up the front lawn for springtime, but they're quieter now, more thoughtful. For long stretches of time, they don't say anything at all, but just enjoy the spring day, the warmth of the sun on their faces, and the birds singing in the trees.

Before he goes to bed that evening, Levi lies on the floor of his bedroom and flips his notebook open. He stares at the page for a moment and twirls his pen between his fingers, before he touches it to the page.

 _Shannon Gibbs. Rivka David. Judy DiNozzo._

He hesitates before he writes more, debating which words to use next. He's never liked biological, but birth is round and warm.

 _My birth grandmothers._  
 _Sometimes just writing the words is enough._


	8. Adopt Don't Shop

This chapter isn't my best work, but it's pretty exclusively Tony and Ziva, so I hope some of you Tiva fans will enjoy it.

* * *

Ziva can sense that's something wrong as soon as Tony gets home from work. Between Mossad training that sharpened her senses, and years of working with Tony in the field that made her intimate with every rhythm of him, before her husband even gets inside, Ziva can hear something off in how he slams the car door just a little louder than usual and thumps up the front steps with a slightly different cadence. She doesn't know _what_ is wrong, but something is.

Their son, of course, doesn't have her instincts and doesn't sense anything off. Tony has gotten home from work at a reasonable hour today, and for Levi, it's just a pleasant family evening; they eat dinner together, watch some TV together, and Tony helps Levi with his homework. He seems more focused on Levi than usual, and Ziva thinks that she knows then what's bothering him. The team must've worked a case involving a boy or girl Levi's age today. Cases like that don't happen often, but they have an affect on Tony when they do.

A few years ago, there was a nasty homicide case - a female Petty Officer and her young son killed by the officer's ex-husband, the boy's own father - and that night, Ziva found Tony standing over Levi's bed, tears running down his face as he watched him sleep in his policeman pajamas. At one point tonight, she catches Tony's eye questioningly over Levi's head, but he gives her an almost imperceptible shake of the head and looks away.

She and Tony have gotten very good at communicating with their eyes since Levi joined their family - there are too many conversations they can't have in front of him - Ziva gets the message, of course. _I'll tell you later._

So Ziva is patient, and true to his eyes, Tony tells her later. After Levi has gone to bed, they're sitting at the kitchen table, going over their bank statements and bills, when Tony stops, rubs one hand over his face, and lets out a long sigh.

"I almost lost it at work today," he mutters from behind his hand.

"Lost it?" Ziva repeats, concerned.

"I went into the break room for something today," Tony begins, slumping in his chair a little, "and... I gotta stop going in that break room. I swear, the coffee just keeps getting worse. I don't think even Gibbs could drink that swill." Ziva chuckles a bit at his attempt to lighten the mood.

Tony names two men, Agents Holst and Lloyd, and asks if she remembers them. "They're on Stan Burley's team now, but when you left, they were still probies - sorry, I mean, probationary agents. You know McGoo gets touchy if I use that word for anyone else?"

Ziva smiles fondly, then scans her memory for the two men Tony mentioned. She recalls them, vaguely, and nods for him to continue.

"Holst was talking to Lloyd about his sister and her husband. They're trying for a baby, but they're having trouble getting pregnant, he said. They're trying all kinds of stuff - fertility drugs, in vitro, looking into a surrogate - and Holst said he wanted to tell them... he was kinda laughing when he said it, like it supposed to be funny, I guess, and he said he was tempted to tell them..." Tony pauses again, blows out a breath, then says slowly, as if each word is painful for him, "'adopt, don't shop.'"

Ziva goes stiff in her chair, her dark eyes burning angrily. For a moment, the kitchen is so quiet that the only sound is the clock ticking on the wall. After a long silence, Ziva says in a tight, clipped voice, "Well, I can understand why you lost it, Tony."

Tony chuckles darkly. "Yeah, but I _really_ lost it. I remember saying, 'Hey, man, my son is adopted. What do you think adoption is? You think it's like going to the pound and picking out a damn puppy?' I said it pretty loudly." Tony looks sheepish, then half-shrugs and admits, "Okay, I screamed it in the guy's face. Gibbs heard it - probably the whole damn building heard it - and he had to come in and head-smack me to get me to stop."

"I am not sure I would've reacted any better. Who knows, I might have killed him with his coffee mug."

Tony smirks at her. "Nah, he was drinking out of one of those cheaper paper cups they keep in the break room. Even you couldn't kill a man with one of those. But I can see you going full Mossad assassin on him, all right."

They lapse into silence again. They've heard comments like these before, usually from well-intentioned people who don't realize they're being callous. Last weekend, Tony had been running errands with Levi when the chatty check-out girl said, "Oh, he's so cute, is he yours?" Tony had looked over at Levi and startled, as if he hadn't seen him before, then said, "Geez, not him again. I swear, this kid has been following me around all day, calling me _dad_." Levi had practically doubled over, whooping with laughter, while the cashier stared.

Whenever Levi is within earshot, Tony is always careful how he responds to questions like that. He tries to turn it into something funny, and not get offended or let it bother him. He knows that Levi is watching everything he does. Thank God that Levi wasn't there in the break room today, to see Tony completely lose it and scream in Holst's face. What kind of example would that have set for his son?

"I apologized to him later," Tony says, very quietly. "Told him I behaved badly and lost my temper and all those lines. He seemed cool with it, but I still felt like crap. Hell, where do I get off calling someone else out for what they say? Especially after..." Tony falters, and Ziva studies him closely, but he won't meet her eyes. He has something specific in mind, but she isn't sure just what. "...after all that crap I said when you were studying for citizenship."

Ziva doesn't answer right away. She hasn't thought about them in years, and she'd pretended to shrug them off at the time, but some of the comments Tony made while she was working towards her American citizenship had truly stung. _"Hold on a minute, Probie, who says we want_ her _to become an American?"_ If another immigrant at the agency had called him out like he did to Holst today, he would've deserved it. But now, years later, he's the one trying to be more sensitive with what he said. Now he's the one calling out _other_ people. Some of that comes from the natural process of getting older and more mature. But a lot of it comes from wanting to be a good father to Levi.

Ziva smiles and lays her hand over his on the kitchen table. "You have come a long way, Tony."

Tony grins at her brightly enough to light up the room. "Well, I'm not the only one. Look at you, Zee-vah, getting an idiom right." She grins at that, and leans across the table to capture his lips in hers.


End file.
